Mud and Gold (33 page)

‘I would have brought you some if I’d known
you were running short, Lizzie. Did you run out of things for
baking?’

‘No, I’m just cutting down on things like
that. As long as there’re biscuits and things for Frank he won’t
notice. We’re only having bottled fruit and cream for puddings all
the time now, that doesn’t cost anything. I’ve patched this
petticoat till it’s nearly falling to bits, too.’ She turned up the
hem of her dress to reveal a much-mended flannel petticoat. ‘It
should hang together till the end of winter, no sense wasting money
on more material.’

‘Why are you cutting down, Lizzie?’

Lizzie looked over her shoulder as if she
half expected to see Frank in the doorway, then leaned a little
closer to Amy. ‘Frank’s a bit worried about money. He thinks I
don’t know, and he doesn’t want to tell me.’

‘What’s he worried about?’ Amy asked,
surprised. ‘The farm’s doing all right, isn’t it?’

Lizzie pursed her lips. ‘It
would
be
if that Ben hadn’t left a millstone around Frank’s neck.’

‘The money he borrowed, you mean? Why’s that
suddenly a worry?’

‘I’ll show you. Come up here a minute.’
Lizzie rose from the table, then abruptly doubled over, clutching
at her middle.

‘What’s wrong?’ Amy rushed to put her arms
around her, but Lizzie pushed her away.

‘It’s nothing. Just my stomach playing up
again.’

‘Are you still getting that?’

‘Sometimes. Don’t make a fuss.’ Lizzie
straightened up, but she was still in obvious discomfort.

‘It’s got worse, hasn’t it, Lizzie?’ Lizzie
shook her head, but Amy persisted. ‘Yes, it has. That’s why you
look so worn out lately—that and worrying about Frank. Have you
told him you’re crook?’

‘I’m not crook. And I’m not going to tell
him, not while he’s worried about the money.’

‘You should tell him. Maybe you should go to
the doctor.’

‘No! All I’ve got is the odd stomach ache,
Frank doesn’t have to pay good money for the doctor to tell me
that. Anyway, I don’t want the doctor poking around at me. I’ll be
better soon, shut up about it. Come on.’

Lizzie set off purposefully up the passage,
and Amy followed in her wake. When they were in the front bedroom
Lizzie closed the door behind them. She opened a drawer and lifted
a crumpled sheet of paper from it. ‘I found this in Frank’s pocket
when I was doing the washing. He doesn’t know I’ve seen it, I put
it in with his shirts afterwards and he must think he left it there
himself. I can tell he’s been reading it over and over from all the
new creases in it.’

She passed the page to Amy, who read the
bank’s letter in growing shock. ‘That’s awful, Lizzie! Do you think
Frank’ll be able to get enough money?’

‘Oh, he’ll do it one way or another,’ said
Lizzie. ‘Even if he has to borrow a bit off Pa—he won’t want to do
that, though. Pa would go on and on at him, he’d never hear the end
of it. Frank must be really worried—he hasn’t even been very
interested in you-know-what lately. I wish he’d talk to me about
it, that’s all.’ Her face set in firmer lines. ‘I won’t make him if
he doesn’t want to. If he wants to sort it out by himself, then he
darned well can. I’m just making sure I don’t ask for a penny more
than I have to until this is all straightened out.’

‘Yes, that’s all you can do,’ Amy agreed.
‘But Lizzie, I do think you should tell him about those stomach
aches being so bad. The doctor would—’

‘No,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘If I’m still
getting them when we’re straight again maybe I’ll go to the doctor.
Don’t you dare breathe a word to Frank about it.’

It was no use arguing with Lizzie when her
mind was made up, but Amy felt uneasy about her cousin when she
left to go home.

She was so preoccupied with thoughts of
Lizzie and Frank that she went through her tasks mechanically for
the rest of the morning. As the afternoon wore on Malcolm became
bored, wearying Amy with his constant demands to be
entertained.

‘I wish you were old enough to go out on the
farm with your Papa, Malcolm,’ she said when he tugged at her skirt
yet again, whining for something to do. ‘I can’t play with you all
the time. Oh, I suppose it’s hard for you, stuck inside with me and
Davie, but I can’t do anything about it. You’re too little to go
wandering around all by yourself.’

‘Want to go outside. Want to play with
Papa.’

‘Papa won’t play, Mal. I don’t think he
knows how to. Anyway, he’s busy doing fencing, you can’t go way
over the back of the farm looking for him.’

‘Come out and play, Mama. Come and play with
me.’

‘Don’t nag at me, Mal. I can’t go out, I’ve
got too much to do. I wish I
could
go out,’ she said,
looking out the window at the clear sky. ‘It’s a lovely day, and
here’s you and me stuck in the kitchen.’ She looked at Malcolm’s
resentful expression and sighed. ‘If I let you go outside by
yourself, will you be a good boy?’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Malcolm said eagerly.

‘Just play around the house. You can swing
on that rope Papa tied to the tree for you. Promise you won’t go
far away?’ Malcolm nodded. Amy took him out to the porch and put
his shoes on. Malcolm ran towards the tree and was soon swinging
back and forth.

The rest of the afternoon passed more
quickly once she was left in peace. Amy soon had her cleaning
finished so that she could start preparing the evening meal. When
she took a break from cooking to feed David, she was surprised to
see how late it was.
Mal’s very quiet out there
.
Suspiciously quiet, she decided. As soon as David finished feeding
she put him back to bed and went outside to check on Malcolm, and
was startled to find he was nowhere in sight. The rope he had been
swinging on lay in a heap under the tree; when Amy examined it she
saw that its hastily tied knot had come undone from being chafed
against the branch. Her heart beating fast, she looked about her
trying to decide which direction Malcolm might have wandered off
in.
Not down to the creek
, she begged silently.
I
shouldn’t have let him go outside by himself, he’s too little.
Where’s he gone?

Since the creek was the most obvious danger,
Amy was about to set off in that direction when Malcolm appeared
around the corner of the cottage. Amy rushed to him and knelt down
to throw her arms around him, at first too overcome with relief to
notice his troubled expression or how muddy his clothes were.

‘Where have you been, Mal? Mama’s been
worried about you! You told me you wouldn’t go away from the house.
That was naughty, wasn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to.’ Malcolm
looked up at her with tears in his eyes, much to Amy’s surprise.
The scolding died on her lips.

‘Don’t cry, love,’ she soothed, holding him
close. ‘Mama got a fright, that’s all. There’s no need to cry.’

‘Don’t tell Papa,’ Malcolm pleaded.

‘All right, I won’t tell him. But you
mustn’t go off by yourself again, Mal.’

‘Rope falled down. I wanted a swing.’

‘You should have come and told Mama. Mama
could have fixed it for you.’

‘I wanted a swing,’ Malcolm repeated. ‘I
didn’t mean to.’

‘Didn’t mean to what? What’s wrong, Mal? Did
something give you a fright? And how did you get so muddy?’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ Malcolm began to cry in
earnest.

‘Shh, it’s all right. You didn’t mean to run
off, did you? Come inside and we’ll get some clean clothes on
you.’

Malcolm slipped his grubby hand into hers
and let her lead him into his room. ‘I’m tired, Mama. I want to go
to bed.’

‘Do you? It’s very early for you to go to
bed, Mal. Do you feel sick?’

‘Ye… es.’

Amy felt his forehead. ‘You don’t feel hot.
I think maybe you just tired yourself out, running around this
afternoon. I tell you what, you can have your dinner now then I’ll
pop you in bed. But you won’t see Papa if you go to bed early, you
know.’ Malcolm looked solemnly back at her and said nothing.

Amy undressed him and put his nightshirt on,
so that he would be ready for bed when he had eaten. He gulped down
his dinner, looking up nervously from his plate at the slightest
noise, then scurried off to bed as soon as he had finished. Amy
tucked him in and looked down at him thoughtfully. Something had
frightened him, she could see, but there seemed no point pressing
him about it. By morning he would probably have forgotten whatever
had upset him.

It was twilight before Charlie came in from
milking. Amy had had the table set and his meal keeping warm for
half an hour. Whatever had made him so late would not have put him
in a good temper, she was sure. The ominous set of his face when he
walked into the kitchen soon showed her forebodings had been
correct.

‘You’ve been a long time, Charlie. What
happened? Is everything all right?’

‘No, it’s bloody well not all right. I’ve
been chasing round the bush getting my cows back. The paddock gate
was open and half a dozen of them wandered off.’

‘Oh, no! Did you find them all?’ It was no
wonder he looked so grumpy. Especially since he must be furious
with himself for having been careless enough to leave a gate
open.

‘Aye, I did. It took me half the afternoon,
but I got the lot of them. I could have lost them, you know. They
could have got clear away and gone wild, or maybe fallen in the
creek where it’s swift. I could have lost six cows.’

‘It’s lucky you didn’t, isn’t it? Your
dinner’s ready, I’ll dish it up right now, shall I?’

‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘Not yet. Where’s the
boy?’

‘Mal’s in bed. He said he was tired, so I
didn’t keep him up. He seemed a bit upset about something.’

‘He would do.’ Charlie turned to leave the
kitchen.

‘Where are you going, Charlie? You’re not
going to wake Mal up, are you?’

‘I’m going to sort him out tonight.’

‘Sort him out? What’s he done?’

‘What do you think?’ Charlie stopped just
before he reached Malcolm’s bedroom door and turned to face her.
‘Who do you think let the bloody cows out, you silly bitch? I
didn’t let them out myself, did I? Even you’re not stupid enough to
leave the gate open, and the little fellow’s barely walking. Who
does that leave? The boy.’ He turned the door handle and went into
the room. Amy followed him, knowing that what he said must be true.
It certainly explained the state Malcolm had been in.

Malcolm was lying on his side with his eyes
closed far too tightly for genuine sleep.

‘Come on, boy, out of bed.’ Charlie shook
Malcolm by the shoulder. ‘Hurry up about it.’

Malcolm opened his eyes and looked
apprehensively at his father. ‘Papa? I was asleep, Papa.’

‘You’re awake now.’ Charlie pulled back the
covers and hauled Malcolm into a sitting position. ‘You let those
cows out, didn’t you?’

‘No, Papa,’ Malcolm said, all wide-eyed
innocence. Amy could see at once that he was lying.

‘Don’t you lie to me, boy. You left the gate
open, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’ He gave Malcolm’s shoulders a rough
shake.

‘I didn’t mean to, Papa,’ Malcolm said,
abandoning all attempt at deception. ‘I wanted a swing. I swinged
on the gate. I opened it for a swing and the cows runned out and I
couldn’t make them come back. I chased them and chased them and
they runned away and they wouldn’t come back. I didn’t mean to.’
Tears ran down his face as he gasped out his confession.

‘He didn’t mean any harm, Charlie. Don’t be
hard on him,’ Amy said.

Charlie turned on her. ‘You keep out of
this. If you’d been keeping a proper eye on the boy it wouldn’t
have happened. He’s got to be taught a lesson. This place will be
his one day, he’s got to learn that you don’t leave gates open for
stock to wander.’

‘He’s too little to understand. He’s had a
fright, he won’t do it again. Will you, Mal? Tell Papa you’re
sorry.’

‘I’m sorry, Papa,’ Malcolm said
instantly.

‘See? He really is sorry, Charlie. He didn’t
understand about the gate. You’re right, I should have been
watching him better. I won’t let him go off by himself like that
again.’

‘I told you to keep out of this! Get out of
here.’ He swung his fist towards her, but the blow went wide of the
mark. Amy moved closer to the door, but she could not bear to leave
the room.

‘Listen, boy, I’ll tell you what’s to
happen. You and me are going over the back of the hill, and I’ll
cut a good, big stick. Then you’re going to get a dozen whacks of
it.’ Malcolm stared as if hypnotized at his father towering over
him.

‘Charlie, you can’t!’ Amy said. ‘Not twelve
whacks, not with a stick! He’s not even three yet—you’ll half kill
him!’ As if her voice had broken the spell, Malcolm began to
wail.

‘Shut up!’ Charlie took a swift step towards
her and gave her a slap on the side of the head that set her ears
ringing. ‘I’m going to bring my son up right. Don’t you go
interfering.’ He left the room with Malcolm firmly grasped by one
wrist, and Amy followed as soon as she had regained her balance.
Charlie strode out of the house with Malcolm in tow, the little
boy’s legs pumping and his nightshirt flapping as he struggled to
keep up with his father’s stride without falling over.

Amy ran after them as quickly as she could,
stumbling once or twice as she followed Charlie to where a stand of
trees twined with supple-jack vines grew.

‘Stay there—don’t you move,’ Charlie ordered
Malcolm. The child appeared too terrified to disobey as he watched
Charlie select a length of supple-jack and saw through the tough
vine with his knife. When Charlie came towards him with the stick
he howled louder than ever, as if he had only just realised what
was going to happen to him. ‘Stop that noise. Bend over and take
your medicine like a man.’

‘He’s only a baby, Charlie! Please don’t hit
him with that,’ Amy pleaded. ‘Use your belt, that’s hard enough for
a little fellow like him.’